


honey, you're so good to me

by owlvsdove



Series: soft shock [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlvsdove/pseuds/owlvsdove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz is a huge whiny baby when he's sick. Jemma is a really, really good friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	honey, you're so good to me

 

His brain has been removed and replaced with an incredibly large amount of cotton balls. Someone took a cheese grater to his throat and plugged up his nose. He has been able to do nothing but lay in bed for the last few hours.

“Oh, _fucking hell_.”

He flings his arm out weakly towards the nightstand and fumbles for his phone.

“Hey,” she says cheerily, picking up after the first ring.

“I’m dying. I just wanted you to know.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Fitz. If you were dying you wouldn’t call me first.”

Fitz has no mental energy to squash the pathetic voice within him that says _yes I would_.

“I definitely have death-like symptoms.”

“Arguably, everyone does. What’s troubling you in particular?” She sounds like an IT specialist.

He repeats the stuff about the cotton balls and the cheese grater.

“So you have a cold, then?”

“No, I’m definitely dying.”

“Baby.”

“What do I do?”

“Have you not had a cold before? Not once in your life?”

“Of course I have,” he grumbles. “Usually I just take off school and sleep for a week until it’s over.”

“Well, it’s Friday. You could sleep for a weekend.”

He groans wordlessly.

“Do you want me to come over?”

“No,” he lies.

“Give me half an hour.”

 

 

 

 

She shows up twenty-six minutes later with a drug store bag.

He looks up at her and frowns. “Why are you dressed like an angel?”

“I’m not.” She is wearing a dress though.

“Did you bring me drugs?”

“Yes.” She drops a DVD case on his stomach. He groans and picks it up.

“This isn’t drugs.”

“I have those too.”

“You want me to watch season one of Full House?”

“It’ll be easy for you to fall asleep to.” She sticks a hand on his forehead. She’s wearing lipstick, he thinks. “Ugh, you are so sweaty.”

“That’s because I’m dying, Simmons,” he bites harshly.

“Alright, alright.” She saunters away. He doesn’t bother to lift his head to see where she’s going. After a moment she comes back into view with a glass of water and two pills.

He frowns, eyeing them.

“Sit up.”

“What is it?”

“MDMA.” His eyes widen because honestly it wouldn’t surprise him; but she just rolls her eyes. “It’s cold medicine.”

He drags himself upright, swallows the pills and drinks the water, all under her watchful eye.

“There,” she says, seemingly satisfied.

“How long until it kicks in?”

“Have some patience. Shouldn’t be that long.”

“Look at that. You’re such a good doctor.”

“You remember that I’m not a medical doctor, right?”

“Whatever.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No,” he lies.

“I’ll go change.”

He wonders while she rifles through his drawers if he’s obvious or she’s just charitable. Or if it’s a combination of the two.

When she returns, he notices that she’s found a pair of her own shorts but pilfered one of his t-shirts, the one with NASA emblazoned across the chest. She takes the DVD from him and pops it into his laptop, before sitting down on the sliver of bed left by his prone form.

She looks strange with her divinely made-up face and perfect hair and schlubby clothes, feet propped up on a large stuffed monkey she’d gotten him a while back.

“I like this show,” he says dreamily as he clicks play on the first episode.

“I know,” she says.

The episode moves along without much incident, misplaced nostalgia lulling him into a sleepiness that she, of course, predicted perfectly.

About halfway in, her phone buzzes. She responds. After a moment it buzzes again and she reads it but doesn’t answer. He pretends not to notice. His thoughts keep hovering above the probable conclusion, but he doesn’t let it slide into place. He doesn’t want to assume anything. That’s where he always gets into trouble.

She doesn’t seem bothered though, if what he thinks is true is true. Maybe she’s good at hiding it. Except she’s not good at hiding anything. Maybe she didn’t want to go in the first place. Maybe she’s just a really good friend.

Absently, well, pretend-absently, her hand rakes through his hair in comfort. Her eyes watch the screen.

It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep.

 

 

 

 

He wakes up to find her in the same position as before, but now intently reading one of his biomedical engineering texts.

“You’re going to get sick too if you stay in bed with me all night,” he rasps. Wow. That came out. He said that. Can’t take that back. Okay.

“No, I’m not,” she says simply.

“How do you figure?”

“Superior immune system.”

“I don’t think there’s any actual science behind that, Dr. Simmons.” He sounds extremely stuffed up. And a little loopy. He tries to pull himself to sitting but fails, too weak. He groans.

She rolls her eyes. “Wow, you really are quite the baby.”

“Did you say babe?”

“I said _baby_.”

“It sounded like you said babe.”

“No, it didn’t.” She nudges his leg with her foot in protest.

“Seriously, you should run. Save yourself from whatever toxic disease I’ve contracted.”

“Cough syrup seems to make you a bit dramatic.”

“ _Save yourself_ , Jemma.”

“I’m safe, Fitz,” she says. “Although I suppose I could take a few mucus samples and make sure—”

“ _Don’t_ clone me,” he says, eyes wide and serious. She raises an eyebrow. “Don’t take any samples from me. I know cloning is a bit beyond our means right now but don’t do it. I don’t think I could compete with myself.”

“Why would I want two of you?” she scoffs.

“I’ll be the normal me, and the clone can be your slave.”

“Oh, please, _you_ barely listen to me as it is.”

He frowns. That doesn’t sound right. “I don’t trust you with access to my DNA.”

“Honestly, Fitz, if I wanted your DNA I could’ve gotten it a long time ago.” True. Technically he put quite a lot of his DNA directly inside of her. Well, in a condom. Plus the times they've made out. Cheek cells tongue cells saliva—

She's still talking. “I have no idea why you think I’d want to clone you but you can put that fear to rest.”

“I just feel like if anyone should clone me, it should be me.”

“Well,” she says, “if I was to clone anyone, it would be _me_.”

He ponders that. “I think I’d be okay with two of you.”

“My clone isn’t going to be your slave, Fitz.”

“No, but if you had a clone then you could’ve stayed here with me and sent the clone out on your date tonight.”

He didn’t mean to say that.

“It wasn’t a date.”

“It was you getting dressed up to go out with someone for a romantic evening.”

She says nothing.

And then she says something big. A hypothesis: “You have a problem with it.”

“Does it sound like I have a problem with it?” He’s asking genuinely. He thought he sounded pretty neutral, but he can’t really feel his face right now.

“It _sounds_ like you’re three sheets to the wind.”

True. He’s not really in control of his mouth right now. Case in point:

“I only want two things, Simmons: for you to be happy, and for you not to clone me.”

She looks at him. “I’m starting to think I gave you too much cold medicine.”

“That’s entirely possible, seeing as you’re not a medical doctor.”

She pulls the pillow out from under his head and smacks him on the face with it.

“That’s just rude,” is his muffled reply.

 

 

 

 

It’s pitch dark. The only light he can see is yellow streetlight filtered through the slats of the blinds. He slept too much this evening, so he’s lying awake.

“Hey,” he whispers. He’s a little more control of himself now, so he feels like he should say something.

But she doesn’t need him to say anything else. “I’m here for a reason, you know,” she whispers back, affirmation bubbling to her lips and out into the dark air.

He nods, knowing she can feel him moving. That’s why he doesn’t mind so much. Because she’s not in love with him and he’s not in love with her; they’re best friends and that’s not _just_ best friends, that’s all-encompassing. That's something he's learned.

Even if he’s upset about it, he’s not going to get upset about it. This is already more than he expected.

He settles in for a quiet night.

 

 


End file.
